House of Masks
by LoyaulteMeLie
Summary: When you can't get what you want, sometimes you take what you can get. Hoshi's tired of waiting. Rated for adult themes. Please do not read if this type of material offends you.
1. The Plan

**Star Trek and all its intellectual property is owned by Paramount. No infringement intended.**

**Beta'd by BookQ36, to whom all due thanks!**

**Author's note: Please note that some readers may feel I'm pushing my characters beyond a permissible line. I haven't done this to intentionally offend, but if you ARE easily offended, this story may not be for you.**

* * *

"We'll be at Risa again in two days' time," remarked Lieutenant Anna Hess with a grin, sitting back in her chair. "I'm sure looking forward to it."

There was never likely to be any dissent on that score from any of the other women sitting around their table in the Mess Hall. Ensign Em Gomez, Crewman Liz Cutler and Ensign Hoshi Sato had arranged to meet up with her for dinner, this being one of the few days when their shift rotations coincided neatly enough for them all to be off duty and awake at the same time.

"I think anyone who isn't must be dead. Especially after how quiet it's been these last two weeks." Anna sipped her coffee. "You three got any plans?"

"You mean apart from the usual?" quipped Liz.

Em let out a cackle, from which it could be inferred that her plans, and indeed two of the others', were indeed pretty well for business as usual.

Hoshi, however, looked thoughtful, which did not escape her friends' notice.

"No plans for improving your Risan this time, then?" asked Liz with a saucy grin, poking her in the side. "Or is Mr Nice Guy not available?"

"I haven't contacted him. Actually," she took a deep breath, "I wondered if I could hang out with you three instead."

Anna almost spat her coffee all over the mess table. Liz and Em stopped eating and stared.

Em was the first to recover. "Well," she said carefully, "it's not ... it's not like you wouldn't be welcome, _bueno, _but I've never got the impression that the sort of places we go to would be really your thing."

"Because I'm a 'good little girl'?" There was unexpected bitterness in the reply. "Well, where does being a good girl get you?"

"Doesn't seem to have held you up too badly," commented Anna with a grin, although unnoticed by Hoshi she exchanged a look with Em that shared and confirmed the diagnosis of the real problem.

"So you fancy something a little different this time?" The armory's Gamma-shift leader set down her knife and fork and looked thoughtful. "I dare say we could find something that'd catch your interest. Expand your horizons a bit."

"Among other things." Anna winked and leered. "People at the kind of places we go to always appreciate a cunning linguist." Her tone left no doubt as to what was really meant by the double entendre.

"Are you sure, Hoshi?" Liz, as usual, was the cautious one. "It can be a bit ..."

"It can be _different_, for once," the comm officer interrupted, annoyed. "Why is it that when the captain needs an interpreter on an away mission I'm expected to act all grown up, but when we're on shore leave on a pleasure planet you all treat me like I'm about twelve?"

"Horses for courses, _es todo_," said Em peaceably. "We only get a couple of days down there. Everyone should get what they want out of it – not what they don't want."

"Well, this time I want a change. I'm tired of just listening to all the crazy things you three get up to and wishing I had the nerve to join in. And I want to give it a try!"

"You've sure changed your tune since you came on board." Liz patted her shoulder affectionately.

"Grown a pair, you mean," growled Hoshi, stabbing a piece of sushi with her fork.

"Might want to change your underwear design if you have." Anna did a comical double-take. "They must be really small, I can't see them."

"She'll see stranger things than that if she comes with us." Cutler grinned.

"You never know what we'll turn up to impress her with." Em's gaze drifted as if by accident to meet Anna's again. "I can think of a few places we could try that we've spotted real talent in in the past. _¡__Caray!_"

"Yeah. And not just little-girly stuff either!" Sato pointed her fork accusingly. "Or I'll go looking on my own!"

"Keep your shirt on, Ensign. _Se obtiene la imagen_. Strictly adult entertainment required." Em grinned lazily. "Just don't blame us if your eyes bug out of their sockets."

"Sounds to me like that's what she's hoping for." Anna was incorrigible, and another cackle ran round the table.

"If you've got nothing to wear I can lend you something," offered Liz. She and Hoshi were much of a size and had occasionally borrowed pieces from each other's wardrobe in the past.

"Thanks, but I've got something." She didn't exactly blush, but her lashes swept downward. The gesture was a telling one, as was the fact that if she owned such an item of clothing none of them had seen it, or even heard of its existence.

Three pairs of eyebrows rose. The comm officer's taste in off-duty garments tended towards elegance; this wasn't exactly in keeping with what would be considered suitable dress code in the sort of places she was demanding to visit. Certainly it would invite attention, but on a first visit that might not be such a good thing. And yet it seemed that their concern was needless. Hoshi – sweet, butter-wouldn't-melt-in-my-mouth Hoshi – had apparently obtained or brought with her from home something that had definitely been hidden in the deepest recesses of her closet until now. This in itself was revealing – probably in more ways than one.

"_Bueno_, then it's a deal." Em checked her chronometer. "I'd better run or I'll be late for shift changeover and the _patr__ó__n_ will have my ass."

"You should be so lucky," said Anna automatically.

"I bet Malcolm's going to be at loose ends on his shore leave," remarked Liz as they all stood up. "I hear Trip's drawn a different rotation."

Em grinned. "_Gracias a Dios! _At least he'll come back with his clothes this time, then."

"And his weapon thoroughly discharged."

The laughs were raucous, but one of them sounded just a little forced.

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	2. Preparation

"Fasten your seatbelts, Risa, here we come!"

As the shuttle dropped away from the ship, Mike Rostov, their pilot, grinned at the chorus of whoops from behind him. His two days were scheduled to start tomorrow, when the first rotation returned, and he shared the excitement of his passengers; the twenty-four hours still to go until his leave felt like an eternity. He had his own plans laid out for the two days, and an unofficial request from higher up the chain of command to keep an occasional eye on Trip if at all possible hadn't seriously disrupted them; they had no specific plans to hang out together for any length of time, but they'd probably have a drink together to start off with. In the course of these pursuits it seemed possible that they might run into the girls' group, from what he'd overheard of their talk while he ran through the pre-flight checks.

It sure might be an eye-opener if they did cross his path, he reflected. Released from the formality of onboard duty, the four of them were virtually unrecognizable already, chattering away like starlings. Their uniform camouflage was already shed to some degree, and their individual characters were visible through their clothes, but each of them had an overnight bag and no doubt more glamorous costumes lurked therein.

"Now mind you behave yourselves down there, ladies!" he cried. "Remember to uphold the good name of Starfleet!"

A chorus of ribald suggestions as to what Starfleet could do with its good name was his only reward, but then he hadn't expected any different.

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"Isn't it a bit early in the evening to be hitting the clubs?" asked Anna doubtfully. She was just applying the last touch of blusher to her make-up as Em emerged from the bathroom of the room they were sharing.

"The sooner the better. You know that."

The Engineering officer put down her brush and turned on the stool. "I know this is probably the wildest goose-chase I've ever been on. For Christ's sake, Em, this is _Risa_. He could be anywhere. He could still be in bed with whoever he picked up last night."

"_Bien_. You're right, but perhaps he might not be. I'll take the chance. What harm will it do?" She shrugged. "If it doesn't work we're no worse off."

"And if it does work Hoshi might be a lot worse off." Anna looked at her levelly. "If we do, by any remote chance, 'get lucky', it could go either way. And either way she could get hurt."

"She's hurting already. At least this way she'll find out where she stands."

"You know, not everybody wants to have their dreams shattered. And if the rumors are true, your boss hasn't got the world's best track record in that department." She held up her hands as Em's expression turned slightly hostile. "I'm not saying I don't like him. Once you get past the duratanium exterior, he's a nice guy. But I think likin' him is a lot safer than lovin' him."

Gomez sighed. She'd been a bit tempted to go down that road herself at one point but had perceived the dangers in time; she'd salvaged a healthy working relationship out of a potential shipwreck, and was more than content with what she had. She felt enormous affection, respect and loyalty towards her superior officer, as all of the armory crew did, but she feared that these things were not what Hoshi wanted from him. And it was true that Reed did have a reputation; he certainly didn't advertise his amorous activities, but the rumor mill back at HQ had him labeled as a commitment-phobe and as promiscuous as a cat. Of course, none of the female crew had first-hand knowledge of said activities, and there was a limit to how much faith Em had in the accuracy of gossip, but better safe than sorry.

"_Justo lo ficiente, y_ou've got a point," she conceded a little wearily. "But after the way she asked to come with us, are you going to volunteer to give her the heart-to-heart girl-talk on that subject?"

Anna grimaced. "I'm not even sure she knows how she feels herself. She sure won't thank us for making her face it if she's not ready to – or even for letting on that we know."

"Exactly. And if we get the chance we'd better give Liz the heads-up too. She's probably already figured out what we have planned for our little girl, but if we're all singing from the same hymn sheet it'll make all our lives easier." She glanced up and caught the other woman grinning. "_¿Qué_?"

"There are times when you sure can tell you work for a Brit." Hess fielded a cushion hurled with armory-trained accuracy, and laughed.

* * *

"Of course she's crazy about him." In time-honored fashion this conversation was taking place in one of the ladies' toilets of the first club they'd visited; Liz and Anna had appropriated the two cubicles available, and kept their ears peeled for the opening of the entrance door. "But I've been hoping it'd just wear itself out. He can't be interested in her. God knows it's not exactly hard to see if he wanted to."

"He may not think it's appropriate for him to be interested in her," said Anna shrewdly. "Him being a lieutenant and her an ensign. Even if they're not strictly in the same chain of command, it's still fraternization. You know how by-the-book he is."

"Hmm. I've thought that myself. And he wouldn't see her as one-off material either, it'd be far too risky. He'd never pee on his own patch." With some difficulty she got her tight-fitting jeans back up. "Can't we all just go somewhere safer and get lashed out of our heads like we usually do?"

"Yeah, and have her go off on her own because she'd think we were nursemaidin' her! She's just about antsy enough to do it, too."

Liz sighed heavily. "So remind me why we started here, when it's not our best shot?"

"Because it _isn't_ our best shot," Anna explained patiently as they washed and dried their hands. "Em figured that if we went there first and got lucky Hoshi'd be straight on to us. She'd know it wasn't a coincidence. She has to think it's just an accident. That way she won't blame us for settin' her up, and if it all goes wrong we can be there to pick up the pieces."

"And what if she doesn't want to go there?" Liz had somewhat of a reputation as someone who preferred to get everything sorted before embarking on a course of action, and she was living up to it.

"Three against one. We'll tell her it's marvelous. And if she's as set as she says she is on pushin' the envelope she won't chicken out of anythin'. If she turns difficult when we get there, we'll tell her _not_ to go in. That'll make her so mad she'll march in whatever we say." The lieutenant grinned. "Em's goin' to fly a quick pass to check out whether he's there first. If he's not, we just walk on and trust to luck."

"Why do I have this horrible feeling this is all going to go horribly wrong?"

"'Cause you're a worry-wart. Now quit arguin' and get ready to be bored with this place in about twenty minutes."

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	3. Implementation

"So this is the place you all think is so wonderful?" Hoshi stared at the building. At first glance it wasn't particularly prepossessing. It was just one of a line of terraced buildings, and little about it suggested that it was anything special. The few windows that faced on to the street were shuttered, like deliberately closed eyes, which did add a certain mystery to the place.

Frankly, it didn't appeal to her. The evening was warm and the crowds were thronging the streets; there was an air of carnival, and to her mind it would be wonderful to stay out here a while longer, savoring the atmosphere and listening to all the fascinating dialects. There were any number of food- and drink-sellers, they wouldn't have to go hungry or thirsty (or sober, for that matter); frankly, the contrast between the lively, colorful streets and that dark-looking club could hardly have been more pronounced, and the latter wasn't nearly as appealing to her as the former. After all, there was all the rest of the night in which to plunge herself into the club scene. In which to….

_Just say it, Hoshi. 'Get laid.'_

It wasn't as if she'd led a virginal life before she'd come on board. She'd had her fair share of strictly temporary encounters. But this was the first time she'd set out to find a salve for more than a strictly physical need: to find some kind of numbing agent for the gnawing ache of desire for a man who hardly seemed to notice she existed on anything other than a professional level.

She couldn't accuse him of being unfriendly. When they happened to sit at the same table with others in the mess he'd include her in the conversation easily enough; now and again he even gave her the small half-smile that was his trademark. But it was 'so far and no further.' She watched in frustration as Trip seemed to get at least some way past those formidable barriers without even trying; once or twice, when the two of them were talking together or working on some project, she'd glimpsed the half-smile metamorphose into a grin that transformed his face as though by enchantment.

And that was all it had taken. One fleeting glimpse of that boyish, endearing smile and she'd been heels over head in love with a man whom five minutes earlier she'd had down as a humorless, solitary workaholic whose rumored success with women was a total mystery.

She looked back now with despair at the way she'd handled the misunderstanding when he'd thought she was coming on to him. She certainly hadn't been, at least not consciously, but she could have been a hell of a lot more tactful about letting him know that. For pity's sake, she had laughed at the mere idea of a casual date with him. A man like Lieutenant Reed was not going to presume to try his luck again with a woman who'd so comprehensively rejected him once. By all accounts he didn't lack for alternatives when they were on leave.

So why should she lack for alternatives? She was attractive, and she'd dressed to show it off. It wouldn't pay to let her mind linger on exactly why she'd bought this particular outfit; she must have been indulging in a hell of a fit of wishful thinking. But that was no reason why she shouldn't get the benefit of it elsewhere. Just because one man would look through her in it like she was made of glass didn't mean that everyone else would.

With that thought she turned resolutely away from the street and the revelers there. This place, from what her friends had divulged with some reluctance, was for 'hitters'. You went here to advertise your availability. They even had a system by which you announced your preferences … bracelets worn on either arm. The choice of left or right signified whether you were seeking male or female partners, the numbers indicated how many you were prepared to deal with at once. It took the guesswork out of the occasion. To be sure it wasn't subtle, but it had the benefit of being straightforward.

Em had taken advantage of the slight pause to duck into the club, and she now re-emerged just as the other three were about to enter. "I don't think it's a good idea for you to go in, Hoshi," she said now. "It's a bit, well… I don't think it's your sort of scene."

Nothing would have done more to bolster the comm officer's determination. "I'm going in there, Em."

"What, it's that bad tonight?" Liz looked worried. "Perhaps it's not such a good idea. Hoshi, we know half a dozen other places…."

"That one or nothing." She put her hands on her hips and assumed her most implacable expression.

"Hoshi, you don't understand." Even Anna appeared unnerved for some reason. "Something could happen to you…."

"For crying out loud!" Her voice was loud enough to make several passers-by turn and stare at her. "I damn well _want_ 'something' to happen to me, and I'm going to make damn sure 'something' does! And a lot more than once, with any luck!" And with that, she marched defiantly up to the door and threw it open.

There was a small outer foyer, but what took her a little by surprise was the fact that it was empty. In the wall directly opposite her was a second pair of doors, over which was the name of the club in Risan script. She looked at it carefully, making sure she got the translation right.

_The House of Masks._

Well, that sounded weird enough. But intriguing.

Resisting the efforts of her three companions to make her change her mind, she marched to the double doors and threw them open too.

There was another small foyer, just like the first. The place was like a Russian doll. There was more script over the next set of doors too, though it was somewhat smaller.

_Where you can be what you really are … if you dare._

Well, she could handle that.

The second set of double doors yielded.

There was a third foyer. But this was much, much larger, and almost every centimeter of its walls was covered in shelves bearing masks of every conceivable color, pattern, shape and size. The whole effect was quite overwhelming; for a second or two her eyes struggled to make sense of what she saw, her brain temporarily stunned by the visual overload. Then she realized that these were for the club's patrons. Three people who'd gone in while the Starfleet party dithered outside were just choosing what they would wear.

Four Risans were seated at a table beside the third set of double doors, again in the far wall. It made sense that this was where payment would be taken, but these weren't somehow the sort of staff she'd have expected. For one thing, they were quite old: three women and a man.

Shore leave for the crew naturally involved having an allowance of credit made over to them in the local currency. She had ample to cover the cost of admission, and having paid she looked speculatively at the baskets of bracelets on the table. This was going to be … well, _revealing._

"No, not yet, _zhe'areh_," said one of the women gently. "First you choose your mask. Then you choose how many masks you will shed."

"Pardon?"

"Different sorts of masks." Anna spoke in her ear. "First you put one on your face, then you take one … or more … off your soul."

"With these." Liz took one of the nearby masks off the shelf and turned it. It was designed to fit a head that would be rather more elongated than a human's, but she could still point to the clips where pieces of spongy stuff were held close to the nostrils. "They soak these in a chemical that affects the brain. It's perfectly legal, and it's harmless to humans; Phlox had a good look at a sample when I wanted to try it. He knows how strict they are about safety with this sort of thing on Risa, and he said this was just on the same level as alcohol except that it wouldn't leave you with a hangover afterwards."

"Well it left me with a hangover. It just wasn't in my head." Em grimaced comically, and they all laughed. Evidently they were now finally resigned to the fact that they weren't going to succeed in talking her out of it, and their acceptance bolstered her determination even further.

"You decide for yourself how strongly you want to be affected, so they know what dosage to give you," Liz continued, grinning. "It's fun, but it's a bit scary."

"When you've chosen your mask you go back and get it prepared. Then you put it on and wait for five minutes, and then you get the bracelets." Em sobered, and regarded her steadily. "If this isn't what you want to do, just tell them. You'll get your credits back. But once you go through the next set of doors it's a done deal."

"You've all done this?" She looked around at them a little doubtfully.

Gomez shrugged. "I'll try most things once."

"It was different." Liz's grin was somewhat lopsided. Anna said nothing, but nodded agreement.

"It isn't like you have to do anything you don't want to," the armory officer went on quietly. "It doesn't … it doesn't make you crazy, or anything. It just sort of makes it easier to do things you really want to, down inside – but ordinarily wouldn't. For all sorts of reasons. All sorts of masks."

"There's one other thing they do too." Hess spoke almost in a whisper. "They give you a name. That little old lady on the end, she paints it on you and then tells you what it is."

"So how does she decide what name you're going to have? Can you decide?"

"I don't know. I don't think you have a choice. She just chooses one for you."

"So what was yours?"

There was a pause. Intriguingly, a hint of a blush stole into Anna's cheeks, which had hitherto been widely supposed to lack the mechanism for achieving such a thing. "I'd rather not say," she said at last.

"Was it that terrible?" Hoshi giggled in spite of herself. She glanced at the other two girls. "Were yours the same? That bad?"

"No," said Em slowly. "_De hecho_, I'd rather not say what mine was either. It's kind of … personal."

"I promise I won't laugh if you tell me."

"I haven't told anyone. And I'll guess if you go through with it, neither will you. You'll understand." She stepped back and looked around. "And if you really are determined to do this, you'd better get a mask for yourself."

"Aren't you coming in too?"

Liz smiled faintly. "Think about it. Would you want us to?"

She thought about it. As a matter of fact, no, she wouldn't. Even in front of friends who shared what they did, throwing caution to the winds on this scale would probably be next to impossible, drug or no drug.

"This is Risa. You'll be perfectly safe. And you'll probably feel happier tomorrow if we're not around to see what you get up to. The temptation to spread it round the ship might be too hard to resist." Anna chuckled. "C'mon. If you don't hurry up and get in there all the best ones might be taken."

Choosing was difficult. At least, in theory it was. There were so many, and out of those which would be suitable for a human to wear quite a few were attractive in one way or another. But one of them caught her eye, and even though she moved on to look at others, not wishing to choose too quickly, she came back to it.

It was gold-colored, covering only the top half of her face, though its sides swept down to just brush the front of her ears. The edges of it were covered with very small feathers, black with a blue sheen, and longer feathers swept back along the sides of her head. What perhaps drew her most was what was painted across the forehead – a white bird in flight, elongated and graceful, its recurved neck and long beak reminiscent of a crane from a Japanese print. The artistry in it was astonishing. Tiny white jewels winked in the background, like stars.

"I can see why you like that one." Em chuckled softly. "Try it on."

She glanced around. "They don't have mirrors."

"_Eso es_. When you come here you have to stop thinking about how you appear to yourself. It's all about how you appear to others."

"Hmm." Tentatively she put the mask on, tying the ribbons to one side so as not to knock her hair decoration. The black feathers matched it rather well, at a guess. Though she would have liked to see for herself. There was a faint perfume in it; perhaps some residue of the chemical from repeated use. It wasn't unpleasant. In fact, it made her feel a bit giggly.

She turned to the others. "So what do you think?"

There was a little pause. "I think you'll knock him dead."

"Or her dead. Or _them_ dead, even." Anna elbowed Liz with a grin. "Maybe we ought to hang around and see what happens, just in case. Though we can always have fun prying the gory details out of her tomorrow."

"Yeah, like you spilled the beans after your turn. Not."

"I just didn't want to make all the rest of you envious."

"Come on. Get the thing loaded and get your name and get in there. You're wasting time." Em glanced at the doors. The other three visitors had just gone in, laughing.

Feeling more than a bit apprehensive now, Hoshi took the mask off again and walked to the table. The man there informed her cordially that there were three strengths of the stimulant available; which would the _zhe'areh _prefer?

Damn it. If she was going to do this, she was going to go for broke. "Give me the strongest." She ignored the knowing chorus of 'ooh's behind her, and handed over her mask.

Nodding, he opened a desk in the drawer and removed a sealed packet from it, which he tore open to reveal a small piece of the stuff Liz had described. With practiced ease he clipped it into place and handed the mask back to her._'Hal-a szhe cuinne ga shoi,' _he murmured, smiling.

_'Ga shoi t-berak'he,'_ she answered, smiling back at him, a reply that elicited an admiring nod for her perfect pronunciation and accent; she was fluent enough not to bother switching on the UT that was clipped on to her waistband, and which she'd only brought along for emergencies.

For a moment she stood with the mask in her hands, then drew a deep breath and put it back on. Anna tied the ribbons for her.

She'd been right; the perfume was that of the drug. She inhaled sharply, trying to prove to herself that there was nothing to be afraid of. All her friends had done this; Phlox said it was harmless. Just for tonight, she needed an escape.

"We'll stay with you till you go for your name. Then it's all yours." For a moment Em's voice sounded strange in her ears. "_Buena suerte. _Enjoy."

"I will." It was quick-acting. She wasn't afraid any more, just keyed-up. _Bring it on._

"Keep walking. It'll help." Liz took her arm, and the contact almost made her jump; it felt as if layers of her skin had come off, making her ultra-sensitive to the slightest touch. She walked slowly around the room, hearing and not hearing the teasing innuendo that flowed around her.

She wasn't sure if some distortion of one's perception of time was one of the side-effects. It didn't seem like five minutes before she was sitting in front of the old woman, watching her slender, wedge-shaped paintbrush hover over a palette of paints on the small table between them.

"You have not been here before, little one." The eyes in their nests of wrinkles were kind and merry.

"No." She looked at the palette. It was one of some half a dozen that could have been selected; its colors ranged from the palest blue to the darkest green, along with pots of black and white that were stark by contrast.

"I will paint first. The paint will tell me what your name is." The brush hovered for a moment and then darted into the first pot.

The design apparently had to be painted somewhere in the vicinity of her collar bone, and fortunately the outfit she was wearing allowed ample space for this. Her friends' eyes had opened wide when she'd emerged from the bathroom of their hotel room in a leather mini skirt that just about concealed the fact that she was wearing a thong. This un-Hoshi-like garment was complemented by a leather waistcoat whose cord fastenings made it amply clear that she wasn't wearing anything else underneath it.

The old woman worked quickly and neatly. Hoshi resisted the urge to look down, concentrating instead on trying to glean what the picture might be from the feeling of the small, skilled strokes of the brush on her skin. Her breathing had quickened; she felt light and alert, but not as different as she would have expected.

The body-painting was done with expert speed and precision. After what felt like barely a minute the artist laid down her brush. Then she picked up a small pot from a group of them that had stood on one side, unscrewed the lid, and carefully tipped just a little of the contents on to it. She brought the lid close to her handiwork and blew gently. A small cloud of sparkles transferred itself to the wet surface.

"Always, the paint knows." She nodded. "It suits you, little one." Her bright eyes glanced around at the watching women. "Your friends would like to see?"

"Just the painting." Em nodded too.

Hoshi swiveled on the stool and watched the three of them. Their eyes widened.

"Gee, if I could paint like that I'd leave Starfleet and make a fortune." Liz leaned in to admire it.

The old woman laughed gently; the women were all carrying UTs, but even without the translator the meaning would have been plain enough. "Not many have the talent; fewer yet choose to use it. And fewer yet can let the paint speak."

Hoshi squinted downward. She couldn't make it out. It was just a smear of white and blue and green, overlaid with gold, resting on top of her left breast.

"And now you will need the name the paint has chosen."

"Time for us to go," said Anna. "See you tomorrow, Hoshi. Or the day after. If you can't remember the name of the hotel, we'll meet you at the landing port at about two o'clock local time. Anyone'll give you directions to that."

"Good luck!" Liz called back from the door.

As soon as the three of them had gone the old woman breathed the words in her ear. Her eyes widened. "How did you know?"

"The paint, child. The paint always knows. Now you must make haste." She pointed to the baskets of bracelets. They were made of some kind of glass, painted in bright colors.

Hoshi stepped over to them. Her hand hovered.

_Well, you wanted this. Now go get it.  
_

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**All reviews received with gratitude!**


	4. Result

Her palms were damp with nerves and excitement as she finally pushed the last doors open.

She'd come up a staircase that led directly from the rooms downstairs. Now she paused, instinctively waiting for her eyesight to adjust to the lighting so that she could get her bearings.

It was immediately evident that all the dividing walls on the upper floor of the building had been knocked through; it was a huge open area, not the relatively small place she'd expected as the upper level of the house they'd entered. She was also shocked by the volume of the music pulsing in it. The walls and doors must be astonishingly effective at soundproofing, for although hardly a hint of it got through to the lower levels, once she was inside the doors, the bass hit her chest wall in waves.

Given that she'd seen for herself from outside that all the windows were shuttered, it was unsurprising that it was quite dark inside except for the laser lights that swept to and fro. It was also quite crowded. A very few moments' observation told her that for all that her outfit could be considered very risqué by her usual standards, up here she was verging on overdressed. Now, seeing that some of the guests had evidently considered even a thong surplus to requirements, she defiantly stripped out the cords that kept the waistcoat at least nominally functional and whirled them over her head before throwing them far out over the crowd. _Come and get it, boys!_

Waiters were circulating among the dancers with trays of drinks. Everyone was helping themselves so she did the same. The liquid was cool and spicy on her tongue, and the beat was hammering in her ears. She slipped into the crowd and started dancing. If she wanted to touch, she touched. If she wanted to kiss, she kissed. If she wanted to stroke, she stroked. Others did the same to her. The strangeness of it spiked like adrenaline.

The masks made the whole scene completely surreal. In many cases there was no way of knowing even what species someone was. The low lighting stripped coloration from skin, though the painted patterns seemed to pulse with a light of their own.

She found out very quickly that the rules here were so relaxed they were virtually non-existent. Couples or even multiples didn't even bother to get off the dance floor. Her already rapid pulse picked up even further. Was that what she wanted? To be taken, like that … out in full view of everyone, not even knowing her partner's species, let alone his name?

Oh, it appealed to her. There was no doubt of that. The tingle at the thought of it told her so in no uncertain terms. Well, she'd wanted the works. It appeared she'd got it. Down under the layers of conditioning and the mores of her upbringing, Hoshi the Exhibitionist was alive and kicking.

_Put your arms high, Hoshi. Show 'em the bracelets. That'll get you noticed._

There was a yell at that moment. Heads turned. There was a podium nearby which had been vacant for a few fleeting moments, but now two masked figures had leaped up almost at the same instant. The masks faced one another for a second, in a long, measuring glance; then after sizing each other up they both turned their full attention to the crowd below. They began to bump and grind side by side, hands high. They were both naked to the waist. The taller of the two had a mane of long, coarse dark hair that fell part way down his back, but none of his face was visible at all. He was wearing a short kilt of some electric-blue fabric that matched a complex series of tattoos down his superbly muscular body and legs. The other was considerably slighter, but moved with an electrifying, sinuous grace in his skin-tight black leather pants. His mask was only a little over half-length, curving down across his cheekbones, a strange thing that looked as though it had been constructed from shards of black mirrors. A passing resemblance under the shadow of the mask's edge made her heart jerk for a moment; but she dismissed the thought as an absurdity.

Almost at once a couple of female dancers jumped up on to the podium too. They were instantly grabbed. The dancing immediately moved up a notch. Hands roamed with insolent confidence. A tongue like a giraffe's emerged from the slit in the full-face mask and stroked the woman's mouth and ears. The mirror mask disappeared from view momentarily as its wearer's face plunged into ample alien cleavage, kissing and nuzzling.

Emotions that she'd have been hard put to analyze if she'd even taken the time to notice their existence seized her. Obeying the loudest of them, she pushed through the throng just as the two females detached themselves and leaped back onto the floor to join a rather complicated event that was in process of forming in front of the podium. The taller of the two men followed, stripping off his kilt. The smaller one was left alone, but he seemed in no hurry to commit himself. He turned slowly on the spot, grinding and undulating to the beat, his arms crossed above his head to show off a naked, sweat-coated body that was muscle and whipcord. He had an ass to die for, and as for the erection that the leather and the laser lights showed up to such effect…

… _Hoshi, you could handle every centimeter of that._

She jumped up to join him, and saw raw intention flare behind the mirrors. His hands were on her breasts, finding her nipples hard with excitement. He pushed aside the waistcoat and bent her over backwards. His mouth was skilled and demanding; her hands twisted in his short, dark, wavy hair, and her knees buckled.

His fingers performed a cursory examination, their movements swift and deft as he pushed aside her thong. The super-sensitized nerve endings under skin that was glossy with anticipation hardly had time to register a shrill shriek of shocked delight before the small, telltale movement of a zip being yanked down heralded the invasion.

She screamed, though the music drowned it. Went on screaming, as his body slammed on in perfect time to the rhythm and his hands under her ass kept her steady for him while her legs wrapped around his thighs and her arms wrapped around his shoulders and the sensations coursed up from her groin in molten, thrilling waves.

_Yes. Yes. Yes. Oh God. _She'd never come this quickly, but it was happening now. Her throat locked. She stared in desperation at the eyes behind the mask. Grey. Hard. Hungry. Desperate. _Fuck me. Fuck me!_

_Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!_

* * *

The toilets were quiet and cool. The silence after the music made her ears ring. At least she was alone; she'd torn herself from his grasp afterwards and almost run for the one place where she could guarantee he wouldn't follow even if he wanted to.

After she'd cleaned herself up she went to the sink and splashed water on her face in the effort to cool down. She didn't move away at once, however, but leaned over the water for a little while, studying her reflection. The eyes that looked back at her through the mask were bewildered, though the slightly swollen red lips beneath it wore a satisfied look. She could hardly blame them, after what had happened in there.

Movement behind her made her look up. Shards of dark mirrors were reflected in the silver sheet in front of her.

He shouldn't be here. But then he'd know that already.

Hands that had been sure and brazen on her body closed a little tentatively on her upper arms.

In the mirror she noticed that all but one of his bracelets had been removed. Strangely enough so had hers, though she hadn't realized till now, when she saw them sitting beside the tap.

He asked what name the paint had given her, and she told him.

He told her his. It was astonishingly appropriate.

He told her that he served on a starship, and that he was in love. But since it was with a junior officer, he couldn't do anything about it. He had to watch her every day and say nothing; to dream about her every night and not lay a finger on her. Days and weeks and months of frustration mounted until this was his escape: a club where he could find release in frantic, meaningless sex, a physical marathon that drained him sufficiently to endure the days and weeks and months still to come.

And that she reminded him – so much – of the woman he loved and could never touch.

"Will you come back to my room?" he asked gently, when he'd finished. "Will you let me go on pretending, just for tonight?"

She turned around and faced him. The eyes were naked, defenseless, pleading for understanding. Not for forgiveness, because he was not ashamed; simply for understanding.

She looked at the paint on his chest. Shades of grey and black. The black lightning-stripes were jagged, hurt, threatening; the swirls were lost and desperate.

"Yes."

His mouth touched her paint with infinite gentleness. She'd just seen it in the mirror for the first time. The white bird from the mask was suggested only by one or two lines like spreading, confident wings. The blue and green and gold gave birth to it, lifted it in a joyous uprush, but beneath the white were tiny, strong lines of black, supporting it and strengthening it. Always there, whenever she needed him. He always had been, and he always would be.

'Caged Bird of Many Tongues' and 'Defender Who Walks Alone' left the club together, hand in hand.

_The paint always knows._

**The End**

* * *

**All reviews received with gratitude!**


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